


Turning the Tables

by Truth



Category: PropHunt (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Death, Gen, Mad Science, Monsters, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-23
Updated: 2013-12-23
Packaged: 2018-01-05 16:08:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1095952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Truth/pseuds/Truth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Why would anyone chase a desk through a ruined sub-basement?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Turning the Tables

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sailorhathor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sailorhathor/gifts).



> This prompt was for angst and plot amidst the Prop Hunt mod/add-on for Team Fortress 2. Wildly AU from TF2, but I hope that it still appeals.

Beneath the blasted sands of a desert created by indiscriminate destruction, there lies a ruined complex that was once a bastion of scientific discovery.   Where, once upon a time, there were gleaming glass corridors and high-security checkpoints, there were now dark, battered cubbies and half-abandoned barracks.   Survivors huddled here, not merely the remnants of the armies that had destroyed the land above, but those who had broken free of the labs and those who had once worked there.

 

Abandoned laboratories and mostly destroyed living quarters were strung together by miles of ill-lit tunnels, choked with debris and random items dragged forth to construct make-shift barricades.   The war that had ruined everything above waged on below, albeit with fewer combatants and far more care.   It wouldn’t do to destroy the only shelter to be found for hundreds of miles, after all, or to ruin the reservoirs that kept water flowing to the survivors, or cut off access to the bunkers that held what was left of the edible supplies.

 

The most intense battles, however, were not between what was left of the armies.  No, they’d banded together quickly enough when confronted with some of the things which had escaped from the labs to roam freely through what was left of the vast complex.   Even as their numbers were whittled down, they sought alliances to prevent these creatures from ever reaching the blasted sands above.

 

The creatures that had crawled forth had been true horrors.  Fanged, clawed and possessing an insatiable hunger, they’d been strong and fast and hard to stop with anything short of an anti-tank missile.  However, there were still things in the ruined labs, more subtle things, and the remaining soldiers had learned the hard way not to trust anything that tried to escape from those labs far below.

 

An itchy trigger finger was a survival tactic.  They were more likely to run out of stored food and potable water than they were of bullets, after all.  Shooting first and asking questions later (if at all) was the only way to be sure of not ending up murdered in your sleep.  However, not everything that had survived in the depths was monstrous, even if precious little was still human.

 

\- at least technically.

 

“What the _hell_ was that?”

 

Adrick glanced back at his partner, pausing.  “What was what?”  He glanced up and down the tunnel, focusing the light attached to the belt over his shoulder at the intersection ahead.

 

“I heard something move.”  Feyd glanced back over his shoulder.

 

That wasn’t unusual, even in areas where no one human had been since the initial attacks began.  Things rotted and fell apart, rubble shifted.  Still, paranoia had become a defining trait, and Adrick shifted, keeping his light trained down the tunnel ahead.  “What kind of ‘something’?”

 

“Something metal.”  Feyd kept his voice to a murmur.  “Sort of a scraping sound.”

 

You never walked the tunnels alone.  Usually, groups of four were the bare minimum.  Somewhere in this sector, however, records indicated there should be an unopened bunker, one fully stocked with food and medical supplies.  Unfortunately, those same records were rather vague as to the exact location.   Feyd and Adrick had separated from their comrades to investigate a promising tunnel.  Adrick, at least, was beginning to regret that choice.

 

The intersection ahead had once boasted a barricade, a sad effort of banked office furniture that had been smashed apart.  Ruined furniture made drifts against the walls and in the mouth of the cross-passage and shadows danced as Adrick moved forward.

 

“Did – did you see that?”

 

Ahead, one of the desks propped awkwardly with one leg atop a broken chair had seemed to move.

 

“It’s just shadows.”  Feyd moved a little closer to his comrade.  He didn’t sound particularly secure in that observation.

 

“You sure?”  Adrick moved slowly forward, weapon held ready.

 

“Of course I’m sure, desks don’t –“

 

Apparently, they did.  The desk lurched free of the pile and _scuttled_ into the shadows of the cross-passage and vanished.

 

“I –“

 

“We’re going back.   We’re going back _right now_.”

 

As Feyd grabbed his arm and dragged him back the way they’d come, Adrick didn’t protest.

 

**

 

“Why did you move?  You could have simply stayed put and they would have passed us by?”  The woman huddled in the shadows kept her voice just above a whisper, not wanting the sound to carry.  “They would have just kept going –“

 

“You don’t know that.”  The desk propped against the wall beside her wobbled on its dented legs.  “You don’t _know_.”

 

“I know that you shouldn’t have panicked.  They’ll be back, now.  And they’ll bring others.  You know they fear anything that lives in the darkness.”

 

“Why?  Why do they fear?  We’ve never done anything to them.”  The voice coming from the desk was soft – young.  “Why would they hurt us?”

 

“Because they don’t understand that not everything different means them harm.”  The woman sighed.   “Come.  We must hurry.”

 

The desk wobbled again, unfolding itself into a small girl with wide eyes and a trembling lower lip.  The woman gathered her up.  “Come,” she repeated.  “We’ll get as far away as we can, and then we’ll try again.”

 

**

 

The areas where the remaining soldiers and other survivors lived were carefully blocked off.  No one came in, no one went out, not without being seen.   It had been a matter of necessity in the first few months, when the things which came out of the darkness often came claws first over the bodies of whoever had been closest to the doorway.

 

Sometimes people emerged from the labs, beaten and bleeding, fleeing whatever lurked in the dark places.  Sometimes they were allowed through, at least at first.   After the second time a fugitive was reported as entering a settlement and then all contact was lost, even the most pathetic, pleading figure was not allowed past the blockades.   Usually, they were shot on sight.

 

“Our only chance lies in become a part of their salvage.” 

 

Foraging teams still went out, their numbers counted and recounted every time they passed the blockades.   They were watched carefully upon their return, sometimes quarantined, sometimes questioned.  No one was entirely certain of what went on the depths, and there were things below which did a very good job at pretending to be human, at least until it was time to feed.

 

“There are too many people in the upper corridors for them to keep track of them all.  They only count the soldiers, and those who cross the checkpoints.  We only have to pass the blockades, and then we’ll be free.”

 

It was easier said than done.  The smaller refuges were easier to reach, situated further out amongst the labyrinthine tunnels than the larger communities which spawned them.  They were easier to reach, but their security checks were stronger and their population small enough that a sudden stranger would be noted.  They represented an obstacle that had to be infiltrated and passed through in order to reach a place where it would be possible to vanish into a crowd.

 

It would be difficult, and a mistake would mean more than death for the one who erred.  Fear is a strong motivator.

 

As is hunger.

 

**

 

The abandoned rooms and corridors weren’t always scenes of combat.  There were still living quarters, here and there.  There were also small complexes that had been constructed to give an illusion of hominess.  They were often connected to the world above, weather-beaten and battle-scarred buildings concealing an entrance to the once technologically advanced installation beneath.   That’s when there were still buildings standing at all, and not simply shelled-out ruins.

 

The desolate sands above held no life, no water, or not any that would be safe to eat or drink.    The surface structures had long since been looted of anything useful, and the sand-blasted hulks of the trucks that had once been parked there had been picked over and dismantled.  The gas pumps were all empty, had been drained when the war swept through the first time, as those not convinced of the safety of the labs below had attempted to flee. 

 

The surface was not a popular place for forage.  Between the battle damage and the sandstorms, the outposts didn’t have much to begin with.  Even those intact had been long-ago stripped of anything useful.   That didn’t mean salvage wasn’t to be found, but the essentials for survival were long gone.

 

Feyd had volunteered their entire team for a run to the surface to look for odds and ends.  Anything to get them further from self-propelled desks and similar weirdness.    Mari and Jess were still making fun of Adrick’s panicked story regarding moving furniture, despite his attempts to explain just how terribly, terribly _wrong_ it had been to see a desk scuttle away without any evidence of actual propulsion.

 

They were kind enough to keep their mockery to the well-lighted and guarded corridors of their assigned outpost, but Adrick and Feyd weren’t particularly grateful for the kindness.   Especially as it was well past sundown by the time they reached the surface.

 

The surface station was one they’d visited before.  This trip, they were there to scavenge a few barrels of fuel to help run a somewhat elderly generator for their own outpost.   Despite Mari’s attempts to split the group, Feyd and Adrick had _insisted_ they all stick together.

 

“It’s been weeks,” was Adrick’s excuse.  “We don’t know what might’ve moved in there.”

 

It was a thin excuse, if entirely valid.  The surface stations usually had more than one entrance to the complex they served, and creatures had been known to make homes there.  It was a good place to lair where their chosen food would come to them.

 

They chose to enter from the east – the easiest path, and the one closest to the surface.   It opened into what had once been the staff quarters – recreational rooms and a barracks.   Everything was brown and grey with age, weather and neglect and a thin layer of sand lay over every flat surface.

 

“No footprints, no funny smells, no weird noises – I’d say we’re just fine.”  Jess didn’t even slow as they hit the familiar doors, moving into the administrative part of the complex.   “No one’s been here since our last visit.”

 

“Not from this direction anyway.”  Feyd didn’t sound particularly enthusiastic.  “Will you just let it go?”

 

“Look!  A _desk_.”

 

“Shut it, Mari.”  Adrick had his weapon in his hands and was drifting behind the others, keeping a wary eye back the way they’d come.  “We’re here for the fuel.  We want to get it moved back to the tunnels, load it on the flatbeds and get back.”

 

“You sure you don’t want to do any sight-seeing?  Take a few pictures?”

 

The ribbing faded as they moved toward the fuel depot, professionalism taking over.  Booted feet made a distinctive scuffing sound in the sand as they moved down the hallways, passing the occasional shattered window or door that opened out into rubble and a crater instead of offices or other administrative rooms.

 

They made it into the depot before Jess motioned for everyone to stop.   “Did you –“

 

The sound was fairly obvious, a faint scraping and jittering from somewhere ahead. 

 

“Wind?”

 

“ – it’s a dead calm out there.”

 

Voices soft, they spread out, Mari taking cover in a doorway.  “Where did it come from?”

 

The sound had ceased and they all waited, silent, to see if it would come again.   Instead, high and wavering, came a thready scream that stopped with a wet, appalling abruptness.

 

“ _Fuck_ that noise.”

 

Jess, weapon in hand, moved rapidly toward the faint echoes of the scream.  With a snarl, Adrick lunged after her.  They didn’t get far before movement in the darkness resolved itself into a man in ragged clothing, running flat out, blood on his hands and face.  

 

Without hesitation, Jess opened fire.  He died at her feet, twitching and bleeding, gasping fruitlessly for air through the gaping hole in his throat.

 

“ – we could’ve at least asked him what the hell was going on.”  Feyd skidded to a stop behind them.   “Was that really necessary?”

 

“Screams and blood?  More than necessary.  Look.”

 

The man had left bloody footprints in the sand, leading back into the darkness.

 

“Damn it – right into the fuel depot.  What do you want to bet?” Mari said.

 

“We’ve still got to get through the rest of admin,” Adrick was looking down at the body.  “He could’ve come from anywhere.”

 

“Well, keep your eyes open.”  Jess moved slowly forward, past the still-twitching body.    “There might be others.”

 

“Great.  We’ll just look out for – what the hell?”

 

Skittering along the outer edge of one of the shattered walls was a perfectly ordinary desk lamp.  There was no immediately visible cord, and the shade had a dent in it, but it was a _lamp_.  And it was _hopping_.

 

Feyd opened fire, the reaction almost entirely involuntary, and sending his companions diving for cover.   The lamp took several direct hits and nearly exploded with the force of the bullets –

 

“That’s… that’s a _person_.”

 

“It was a lamp!  I saw it!  A lamp!”

 

“Now will you stop laughing at us?”

 

“Screw laughing.  What the fuck is going on here?”

 

“It was a lamp!”

 

“Shut it, Adrick.  We saw it.  We know it was a lamp.  Now it’s not.  Wha-“

 

The argument was cut short by another scream from somewhere further in and Jess swore.  “Fuck it.  I’ve had enough of this.  Come on.”

 

“Shoot anything that _moves_.”

 

There were six more incidents as they ran grimly toward the fuel depot.   A tall wardrobe from inside some exec’s living quarters that tried to sidle away from Jess when she poked it, an actual rock from a pile of rubble that used to be a wall, another lamp –

 

All turned into people when they were shot, none of them appearing in the best of shape, and by the fourth one, Mari was mumbling somewhat hysterically about invasions and lamp-people and how they’d all wake up one morning and find themselves turned into someone else’s bedroom furniture.

 

There were no more screams, though with the amount of noise the small group was making, it wasn’t something to be surprised at.  They reached the depot, bursting through the doors, only to discover that animated furnishings were the very least of it.

 

Above the rows of barrels that had brought them to the outpost hung a thing of darkness – shrouded by it or producing it wasn’t an easy distinction to make.  Whether or not it was responsible for the human furniture was a secondary issue, as it had long, barbed arms which were currently tearing apart what had once been a human body, or at least what looked like one.

 

“Shit.  Shit, shitshitshit –“

 

“We can’t have a firefight in here!”  Mari shouted it as she grabbed for Feyd’s weapon, which was already moving toward the creature.  “The fuel!”

 

“Run.”  Adrick was already backing away, through the doors.  “ _Run_.”

 

They did run, the horrible, dark thing giving chase with a skittering, scrabbling sound which told them they didn’t really _want_ to see what it looked like outside of concealment.

 

It wasn’t too large to squeeze into the hallway after them, at any rate, and Feyd hurled a grenade back over his shoulder as they fled.  

 

It made a horrible, rattling noise when the grenade exploded, but it didn’t seem to slow.

 

“It’s moving too fast!”  Adrick grabbed Jess by the shoulder and threw himself through an open doorway, dragging her with him.  “Mari!”

 

“On it!”  She threw herself through another doorway, Feyd at her heels, and all weapons were turned on the encroaching darkness and the thing it hid within.

 

Automatic weapons fire in an enclosed space is not something anyone chooses, if there’s a choice to be had.  The fact that the room where Mari and Feyd had chosen to take cover was missing an outer wall was actually to their benefit, or at least to the benefit of their eardrums. 

 

There was flailing and screaming and quite a bit of dark, foul-smelling blood as the weapons fire attempted to light up the blackness.   Eventually, the thing withdrew, leaving smears of blackish-brown on the floors and the walls.   Shaking hands managed to reload, and Mari and Feyd crept back down the hallway, with Adrick and Jess at their heels.

 

The storage depot was mercifully empty, save for more bodies torn into disparate pieces.  With Mari and Feyd keeping sharp watch, Jess and Adrick rolled as many barrels as they dared back out into the passage and then outside to where the huge, flatbed cart was waiting.

 

Shaking with terror and adrenaline, they managed to get the cart and its load back into the tunnels that had granted them access, stopping only to spray paint a warning across the doors before wedging them tightly shut from the inside.

 

They made it back to their own outpost still shaken, where their story was met with fear and no little disbelief.  The monster was one thing, they’d all seen or heard of such things before, but – furniture that was people?

 

Abandoning their cart, they withdrew to the living area of the outpost, leaving the fuel barrels to be dealt with once debriefing was complete.   There was nobody left in the shabby corridor to watch two of the barrels roll free of the pile and stretch into a pair of frightened looking children.

 

Joining hands, they slipped down the corridor and through a large, barred gate, pausing once to hide behind a small cart as soldiers ran past.

 

“We made it.”

 

“We made it this far.”  They huddled together, waiting to be certain no more soldiers were coming before darting out into the passageway and beginning to run.

 

“Mom and dad –“

 

“ _We_ made it.  We have to keep going.”

 

“Will we be safe?  Once we get there?”

 

“Safer than here.”

 

The next large outpost was almost two days away, but these were travelled corridors.  They were past the first, rigorous checkpoints now.  And who would think to question a pair of ragged, recently orphaned children?

 

If those who would question became aware of their presence at all.

 

“What will we do?”

 

“We’ll survive. Better off here than back there, anyway.”

 

The soldiers would hunt them, now that they knew what to look for.  They killed the strange because it was easier than making themselves a target for the things that only _looked_ harmless.

 

“Should we try to warn –“

 

“Don’t look back.”  The children ran, leaving what was left of their family behind, in bloody, scattered heaps.  “Don’t ever look back.”


End file.
